Fallout Equestria: Endless Horizon

Chapter 2: Reclusive Restlessness

My poor ship had seen far better days. I was in Equestria for less than three hours before my first challenge presented itself. In most adventure stories, the hero saw their first challenge coming. Sometimes even having a few minutes to days to prepare themselves for it! I wasn’t quite so lucky…

Everything seemed fine from the bridge of the Skystar V as we sailed through a storm towards Trottingham, a large prewar city nestled on an island southeast of mainland Equestria when everything fell apart. Alarms blared, and screens flashed and sparked. Before I could hear myself scream something nearby exploded, and the entire world was silent. Unimaginable pain burned through my skull as I clutched my head in my talon, falling back against the floor.

The next moment seared itself into my memory, fueling my nightmares for weeks. The floor was still. Completely. Deathly still. No hum of machines, no soft vibrations from air vents. There was nothing. Nothing but my own nauseating fear.

The main power was shot. In four seconds, a bolt of lightning turned my state-of-the-art Sky Sailor into a glittering metal sailboat. My own inertia hurled me against the ceiling as the ship fell. The taste of blood and a thunderous pain in my skull was the last thing I remembered.

Sailor

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Red emergency lighting streamed through the ship, giving the grounded vessel an eerie atmosphere. The inside was a disaster. Supplies and belongings were scattered across the floor. Lights and monitors flickered, some failing to draw enough power, with many others damaged in the crash.

It was hard to tell exactly when I woke. Everything was foggy and far away, almost dreamlike as I slowly regained consciousness. An oil lantern burned next to the bed, flickering a slightly more hopeful glow over the room than the gloomy red beans radiating from the hallway. The scent of burning oil mixed with the thick antiseptic smell of the Skystar’s tiny medical bay. It was just two adjacent beds, with some IV stands and other equipment laid across the floor around them. The cabinets along the back wall were still closed tight, their stock of drugs and bandages safely inside.

I was laid out in my usual bed. My clumsy childhood landed in it more times than I care to count, so of course I knew exactly where I’d ended up. The details of how I got there however were pretty fuzzy though.

Sitting up was a mistake. The motion turned my belly into a circus act as my stomach started doing backflips. The room spun and danced as my equilibrium failed me. I covered my beak with a talon and laid back, fighting against terrible nausea.

Eventually, my body calmed enough that I could take stock of my wounds. I found my achy back leg already wrapped tightly in a crude splint consisting of scrap wire and a couple of rulers. When I reached up to feel my aching temple, I was met with a sticky, oozing strip of bandage that had been hastily (and foalishly) applied. I made a mental checklist of injuries as I went, thankful that it was rather short.

Still, it didn’t feel like it was that badly injured… as I sat up and took a look around the disheveled med bay I discovered why that was. A pair of empty med-x syringes sat next to the oil light.

I was awake at some point to get to sick bay and treat my injuries, but I couldn’t remember it. Apparently, memory loss is a common side effect of both lightning strikes and head injuries. All I remembered was panic and pain… The biggest saving grace was that my first instinct wasn’t to down some healing potions. If I had any broken bones or shrapnel in me, it could have healed horribly wrong.

I took a moment to get my bearings and let my nausea subside. I was hoping that I was feeling sick as a side effect of the painkillers, and not from a concussion that I had just slept with. My Pipbucks medical system was annoyingly basic, only telling me my overall health and the status of various appendages. I didn’t need it to tell me my leg was broken...

I took my time as I pulled myself out of bed and onto all fours, only for another dizzy spell to strike. A terrible wave of nausea followed. The ordeal did make me wonder… why was it called a dizzy spell? Was there a spell to make you dizzy? If there was, Aqua would surely know it. I could message her and ask…

Focus, Aella! Gotta make sure the ship is in one piece, or this is going to be a very short trip. Get on task nerdy birdy!

I considered grabbing something from the medicine cabinet to help with my nausea as I limped past, but decided against it. I already took more chems than I probably should have, and pumping more drugs into my system rarely made my life better.

The terrible state of my home made my heart ache. Lights shattered or flickered weakly, paint cracked and chipped away from the force of the crash, and glass was strewn across the floor. And that was just the hallway! My intended destination of ‘the bridge’ was sure to be worse.

And the bridge felt so far away. Every step sent sharp pains lancing up from my leg, forcing pained chirps and whimpers from my beak. I had the not-so-bright idea of flying to take the stress off my damaged limb, but that left me but all that got me was another round of incapacitating vertigo. I fell against the wall of the tight hallway, retching and crying. At least I didn’t feel nauseous anymore...

And at least there was no one to see me like this.

The thought was supposed to be comforting, but it quickly soured. For the first time in my life, I was utterly alone. As embarrassing as it’d be for someone to see me wounded, weak, and vomiting all over the glass-covered floor, at least they could help me.

I’d never truly been alone before. I always had someone there for me. Family, teachers, and coworkers. I wasn’t good on my own. Just a young clumsy hippogriff who talked too much or too little, and always failed to take a hint. At the same time, I loved to be alone. An annoying, unsustainable dichotomy.

I clenched my eyes shut and let out a furious cry, pouring every bit of stress, worry, and self-pity into the sound. I couldn’t let my thoughts get the better of me. I could do this! I’m Aella Breeze! I could think my way out of this. Out of anything!

The walk to the control room was long and exhausting, but I managed it! Actually repairing the ship to any significant degree was out of the question until I had time to rest and heal up a bit, but I could at least figure out what needed fixing and work out a plan of action.

The room wasn’t as large or grand as the name suggested. In the center of the room was a large table, equipped with both a flat display running across it and a holographic display I could use. The entire front and side walls were covered in windows for maximum visibility, with several screens on the roof connected to cameras on the underside of the ship! All of which were black, and a few of which had cracked screens. By the front windows was the steering, a simple wheel with several levers set beside it. There was a display adjacent to the levers to get basic ship readings while piloting.

My father had taught me how to sail the Skystar, but I’d never done it. Core was able to fly the ship and navigate all on its own, so I left all of that to the AI while I prepared for my quest! …Ok, I did a lot of lazing around and reading. It was a long flight! I was terrified of going to a new land! There’s nothing wrong with a little escapism from time to time. A bit of stress relief.

A thin vale of acrid smoke hung against the roof, making me choke and wheeze as I crouched under it. The acidic smog rose from a blackened panel by the door. I couldn’t make out the writing on it, but I already knew it was part of the emergency power system. I’d need to get the bridge powered on to see the rest of the damage reports.

A plume of smoke burned my eyes as I pulled the panel open. The tang of ozone and rotten eggs sent me reeling. I would have killed for my respirator, but there was no way I was going down two flights of stairs to get it from my workshop. With a breath of slightly less toxic air, I assessed the damages.

The spark battery hub was a charred, twisted box of steel. The housing was supposed to safely contain exploding batteries, and it did its job, barely. The lightning completely overloaded the batteries, so they’d need to be replaced.

At least getting power back on wouldn’t be too much work. It was one of 8 spark battery hubs in the ship, so all I had to do to restore power was bypass the damaged one. A few flipped breakers and a new fuse later, the undamaged lights flickered to life, and the vents hummed softly as they worked to make the air breathable. I probably would never get rid of the burnt-up battery smell, though. Bleh.

I sighed as I stared down at the fried conduit somberly. It sucked seeing good tech go to waste. I know it’s dumb, but it always made me feel a little bit sad. I apologized to the damaged Arcano-tech for subjecting it to my misfortune and closed the panel. Even with the parts to repair it, I’d never find a spark battery to replace the four I lost. Sure I’d be able to find some 200-year-old batteries laying around, but they would pale in comparison to my more recently constructed storage mediums.

The flat screen of the table glowed as the mainframe booted up, instantly flooded with warnings, alerts, and damage reports. Most of it was information I already knew, or that simply didn’t matter at the time. (I didn't care that light-gem 3 in my private bathroom was offline, the ship just crashed, stupid!) There was one message that stuck out. It hit me hard in the chest, flooding me with confusion and anxiety as I read it over and over.

Proximity alert

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As unfamiliar and new as every experience on my travels was, there was one familiar thread I knew inside and out. Guilt. I was a clumsy fledgling in my youth! (And still can be, depending on who you ask) So naturally sometimes I hurt myself. Once in a while, my actions hurt others, and I’d have to deal with the repercussions. Sometimes it was my own stupidity and lack of awareness, other times it was completely accidental. Both lead to horrible feelings of guilt and more often than not, being yelled at, and having to confront my mistake by apologizing.

But what are you supposed to do when an apology isn’t enough? When the damage done is too significant, too deep, physically or emotionally? Last time I ran… Flew, more accurately. Abandoned the scavenging mission I was sent out on, and nearly got myself killed by an elementally charged bird. I ran home, on some level hoping my sister or someone else could save me from the trouble I caused.

That wasn’t an option this time. I was alone. Far from home. My ship was critically damaged, and I was in a land I didn’t know how to survive in. There was nowhere to run and hide. No one for me to turn to for help.

…Almost no one.

The proximity alert wasn’t a creature trying to attack, or some bandit wanting to steal from me. In all honesty, that would have been way easier to deal with. It was a buck. One who was wounded when we crashed. When I crashed. We could have gone around the storm or landed and let it pass, but I wasn’t thinking! Now not only was I wounded, but someone else was too!

I managed to get the wounded Equestrian into the clean bed of the clinic, right across the room from my own. He hadn’t spoken or shown any signs of consciousness, but he did groan and cough regularly. I found him crumped near the bow, and managed to half drag, half carry him inside. It was only thanks to the dose of buck I was able to walk that far, to begin with. The little yellow pill was something! With the steroids false energy coursing through me, dragging the heavy earth pony into the ship was fledgling’s play!

I was hesitant to put more drugs into my body, as wounded and weak as I was, but the moment I needed them the feeling was gone. After all, it wasn’t like I was taking them for my own benefit or enjoyment. The buck needed me! He was wounded because of me! I couldn’t just leave someone laying outside to die if I had a way to help!

Though I still didn’t know if he’d live… A length of rebar pierced his chest. I had to pull off his cloak and cut away his (impressively crafted!) studded leather barding to even get a good look at the wound. The bloodstained metal rod now sat in the corner of the infirmary, along with his bloodstained cloak, barding and a battle saddle! A neat harness a pony could wear to mount and fire long guns on the side of their barrel.

The healing potions I poured down his throat closed the ugly hole in his chest and helped with his more superficial wounds. He didn’t have any other life-threatening wounds that I could tell, but there was no way to know what was going on inside his body. I considered giving him some med-x for the pain, but I didn’t have a lot in stock...

Maybe he had some of his own in his saddlebags I could give him!

So I grabbed his bag from the corner and dumped its contents onto the floor with a bit too much enthusiasm. I was happy to organize his unusual collection of objects into various piles: Drugs, weapons and ammo, scrap, trash, (Why keep old numbered paper and lose bottlecaps?) and miscellaneous! The drug and weapons piles turned out to be the most impressive, and concerning.

I slid a blank notebook of his into my saddlebag, along with a cap with a smiley face on it, and an old potato chip that looked like a face. They were super neat! and I doubt he needed them. It isn’t stealing if it’s something they won't miss! Daring Do said so!

Jackpot! Painkillers!

When I stuck the buck's foreleg with the ampule of med-x, his muscles were noticeably relaxed. Hopefully, he'd sleep better with his pain properly managed.

He was what I thought a wastelander would look like. His tan coat was coated in a layer of dust with spots of red from new, and various partly healed wounds. He had a very short brown mane, hardly going down below his ears, with a tail to match, but far more messy and knotted.

Curiously, he had a PipBuck mounted to his left hoof! Not a fragile and glitchy wrist terminal like mine, but the more sturdy, button-operated models they mass-produced for stable dwellers. He even had the broadcaster attachment! Unfortunately, the stallion’s device was far worse for wear. It was dented and dusty, and the radio dial was missing, reduced to a small stick poking out of the casing. The backlight flickered as it struggled to brighten the cracked screen.

The urge to take the magical device down to my workshop struck me like a train. I’m no PipBuck technician, but I know suffering technology when I see it! That little sweetie was crying for someone to clean up and refurbish it. It wouldn’t even be that much work! I did work on more than a few PipBucks in ‘Intro to Arcano-tech!’ Seeing the advanced technological marvel so mistreated was like watching someone kick puppies.

Once I managed to stomp down my desire to (briefly!) steal an invaluable piece of technology from the stallion I almost killed, I stayed in the clinic a while longer to keep an eye on him. The way his chest rose and fell seemed normal to me, so his lungs probably weren’t damaged! Still, he looked flushed and sweaty, and his body was hot to the touch.

Watching a stranger breathe is about as exciting as watching paint dry, so naturally it didn’t take long for me to grow hopelessly bored. So I figured I might as well make myself useful!

I replaced most of the busted lights, cleaned the floors, and swapped a few tripped fuses. The work was pleasantly sobering, and a welcomed distraction from my terrible situation and pain-riddled body. Eventually, though, my body burned through the drugs in my system, leaving my head pounding and stomach-churning.

That left me with two choices; A) get some much-needed rest or B) double down on getting my home ship-shape. Of course, being the genius self-loving mare I am, I did the smart thing! With a portable terminal and some papers in hoof, I relaxed in the galley by planning out the rest of my repairs!

…That’s self-care, right? Work is super relaxing! And knowing that something important is broken in a way I don’t understand is stressful, so by learning what's wrong and what to do, I can be less stressed! Aella Breeze, Captain, Chief Engineer, and head of Relaxation on the SS. Skystar! If only because I was the only crew member.

Most of the ship's systems were fine. With a welding torch and some metal, I could repair the haul in just a few hours outside, and I could easily get by with some cracked or broken monitors on the bridge. The big issue was the electrical system. The power regulator was completely slagged. Without it, I couldn’t run any of the more power-hungry equipment. No flying, no water recycling, I couldn’t even run the oven!

I sighed and rubbed my temple with a talon as a headache set in just above my eye. This pain was more familiar than the head trauma-related aches I was medicating against. It was a stress headache. My smart dumb brain's response to the schematics laid out across my dining table, silently taunting me with their complexity.

At least until heavy, staggered hoofsteps sounded from down the hall. I launched out of my chair in a blur, galloping towards Sickbay with an excited wing flutter. The rapid movement made my leg ache and my stomach churn, but I didn’t care. This was my first wastelander! An actual bred and born Equestrian! I’d never met an Equestrian before! Would they be like Commander Macintosh? Brave and selfless. Or maybe kind and loving like the great Mage Meadowbrook! So many possibilities!

On top of that, he was also the first creature I met on my quest! In every story, the first person the hero finds is always super important! Like a wise teacher, a rival to push them to be their best self or even a long-lost family member! If I was super lucky, he could even turn out to be my best friend!

The older buck leaned against the infirmary’s doorframe. I didn’t have his armour on, but he somehow managed to get into his battle saddle before trotting out. He had an impressive-looking shotgun on one side, with a more weathered, ramshackle rifle on the other. Narrowed brown eyes bore into me and stopped me in my track. With a casual flick of his hoof, his rig’s firing bit extended in front of his muzzle.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared down at his twin barrels. I was so excited I didn’t consider he’d be dangerous… I really should have expected it. He was raised in a hard world I couldn’t hope to understand. And it was also my fault he was wheezing and coughing his lungs out. He’d need to stand on his own hooves to properly take aim, but it didn’t make me feel better. He was still willing to pump me full of shotgun pellets until I was a beanbag chair.

“Where am I?” He asked in a gruff, weathered voice. The simple question left him winded and wheezing. It was amazing the buck was even able to get out of his bed. Wastelanders are something else.

“This is my Skysailer, The Skystar V. I’m Aella! Aella Breeze. I was flying North when I ran into some bad weather and kinda got thrown out of the sky by some lightning. I don’t remember much after that. You were wounded in the crash, so I brought you in out of the rain to patch you up! M-more or less… I’m not much of a medic, but I know the basics. Enough for the healing potions to do their work at least.”

He scoffed. Even in his weak state, he had an air of authority and confidence that left me feeling small in comparison. “What do you want?”

The gears in my brain ground against one another as I tried to come up with my answer. It was the last question I expected him to ask. “What… Do I want to? Well… I want to help my sister and my home. I want to have adventures, and help people. I want to learn about technology so that we can use it to sa-”

“NO!” I shrunk back as the buck roared, sending my heart pounding against my chest with a spike of fear. The stallion's outburst sent him into a coughing fit, which just made me feel even worse. I did something to anger him, and he ended up coughing blood into his hoof as a result. As if putting a spike through his chest wasn’t enough, already!

Something flashed in his eyes as he looked back up at me, but before I could figure out what it was, he returned to his stoic demeanor. “No… Dammit kid, are you touched or something? I meant for helping me. Why did… you help me?”

That was possibly the weirdest question anyone ever asked me. Usually, it was more like, “Aella, why are you like this?” or, “Aella, what were you thinking?” or one time, “Why are you in my house!? Aella put my dishwasher back together!” You know, questions that made sense!

Did I need a reason to help him? I thought ponies always helped each other… At least the few ponies I knew back home did. The books I read growing up talked about how caring and selfless ponies were! My Mother idolized Equestria, and its people. It’s where her family came from, after all.

It reminded me of one late night when my parents were arguing in the kitchen. I got up to get a glass of water and overheard it. He didn’t like how she praised and romanticized a nation that was blown to oblivion by its own creation, a country so controlling they drove off their nature spirits and brought the wrath of discord down on the world. The Equestria I read about was dead, consumed by its own greed and fear. Mom hadn’t liked that, and she was far too stubborn to listen. Dad spent the night on the sofa.

The buck cleared his throat, pulling me back to reality. “I helped because you were hurt, and I don’t like seeing others suffer. Plus… It’s kinda my fault. My ship clipped the top of a building, and some of the debris that shot out hit you. So… I’m terribly sorry about that.”

His eyes remained fixed on me as I spoke, carefully considering my explanation. After a long, tense moment, the pony kicked his leg. To my relief, the firing bit of his battle saddle folded away from his muzzle. “I see… I actually believe you, kid. You’re not from here. You’re unusual. Weird, but not full of shit like most people I’ve met. Seeing as it’s your fault I was hurt, I don’t owe you anything for the help. If you could… show me… the door…”

The stallion managed three steps before his body failed him. He stumbled against the wall, caught in the grips of a terrible coughing fit. My feathered ears dipped back as blood painted the wall with his blood.

I trotted next to him when he regained his breath, letting him lean against me. With a wing draped around his body, I slowly guided him back to the infirmary. “You aren’t well enough to go yet. You need rest and probably more healing potions. I still have some repairs and cleaning to do, too. You can stay and recover while I get things ship shape! At least until then.” My voice wasn’t commanding, but it carried authority. I was just being logical. He couldn’t travel in his condition. Even if I let him, his body wouldn’t.

He wasn’t happy about being dragged back to sickbay but lacked the energy to fight me on it. I laid him back down on the bed and gave him another healing potion. It wasn't potent enough to heal him entirely, but with some luck, he'd be ready to move in a day or two. While I was at it I drank one myself, pretty sure I didn't have any broken bones or debris to mess up the healing. The soothing liquid cold my throat as its magic got to work repairing my lame knee and concussed skull. Like with the strange pony whose name I forgot to get from him, ((good job Aella, very smooth.)) it wasn't enough to put me back together completely. It was enough for me to work without being half-drugged out of my gourd at least.

I trotted to the bathroom to take stock of my growing collection of wounds in the mirror. A thin layer of fur was settling in where I was burned days before. The skin underneath was scared and a little tender, but wouldn’t be visible once my coat grew in fully. At worst those spots look a bit darker than the rest of my light coat. That was a huge weight off my back. I was worried that the hair wouldn't grow in properly and I'd be covered in bald spots or something.

Thinking back to that day made me shudder. Just another terrible event on the worst day of my life, scaring my soul. But with that fight, I was alone. No healers, no warriors. It was just me. All on my own. I wasn't very good on my own.

The gash on my head was healing well, downgraded from a concussion to a flesh wound. Hot pain speared up into my chest when I put weight on my bad leg, but I would do alright hobbling on the other three, as long as I didn’t stand up on my hinds. Plus with my concussion symptoms being washed away with magical healing I'd be flying in no time!

While my unexpected house guest got his much-needed rest, I got to work doing more tidying and repairs. All the while I thought hard on where in Equestria I could find a power regulator that I could rig into the Skystar’s energy grid. Between rewiring half the ship from the lightning strike, and cleaning blood stains off the floor there was plenty to keep me busy. Busy was good.

-🖂︎🖂︎🖂︎-

Hey Aqua, it’s me. I’m sorry I’ve been out of contact for the day. I ran into some… turbulence. A minor lightning strike. Nothing I couldn’t handle! Really!!! Unfortunately, it looks like the Deep Range Transmitter was damaged in the strike. It’ll take me at least a few days to fix. Until then, we’ll have to deal with the communications delay.

Anyway…I think I made a friend? An earth pony buck! He's... gruff and weathered. An older Stallion, maybe 40s? I don’t know how to guess someone's age. He Seems nice enough. Not dangerous, at least. Just... not how I expected. I know that ponies in Equestria have been through a lot, but… It really is nothing like the stories you read to me as a foal. I still hope things aren’t as bad as they seem… I’m sure there’s civilization and hope here. I’ll find it. I’ll get us help. Don’t worry, and please be safe

Aella Breeze, Technical Apprentice H-71

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I spent my fair share of time in medical beds growing up. I was always adventurous, but when you mix that with the recklessness of childhood it leads to a lot of cuts, scrapes, and bruises. Every time my big sister would be there to patch me up, and every time I’d ask her to use her horn to make it all better. The answer was always no. “Magic is no substitute for good nutrition and rest. You won't heal properly if-Aella are you listening!?” The memory made me giggle.

Aqua was right. She usually was. Even with the potions and meds I forced through my system, my body still ached. It didn’t help that I kept pushing it to try and get more work done. Eventually, the exhaustion overpowered my work ethic, and I dragged my battered body to my room for some rest.

The torrential rain and incessant thunder overhead made it hard to get quality rest, but I managed three or four hours. I could have used more, but once the first rays of sun streamed through my window, I gave up and started my day. Trying and failing to sleep wasn’t a productive use of my time, anyway.

I spent 45 minutes repackaging food and cutlery that was strewn about the galley in the crash before my rumbling stomach reminded me that I completely forgot about breakfast. So I settled into a chair in the galley with some instant noodles and a coffee. If Aqua was there, she would have made me fish cakes and waffles. Spirits above, I missed her…

I lept as a shadowy figure seemed to appear across the table from me. It took me an awkward second to calm down as I realized it was just my wounded guest. Even in his wounded state, he was so quiet on his hooves I didn’t notice him come in. I left some food out on the counter for him, which he hungrily helped himself to.

He wore his duster, the holes and tears now patched. Honestly, it had more patches than actual fabric in some places. Under the duster but overtop his barding, he had his battle saddle on. It was well maintained, at least when compared to the dilapidated Pipbuck on his hoof. That poor, suffering Pipbuck...

“What’s all this?” The buck asked when he finished his food, gesturing to the schematics and maps I was studying the night before. “Looking for salvage?” I raised a brow. The buck was shockingly accurate. “You fell from the sky in a sailboat. It isn’t a hard guess. ‘Sides,

“Yeah, one I can’t find… A lighting storm killed my power regulator. Without it I can’t fly, can’t make water, I can’t even charge the batteries. I can’t make a new one, so I need to repossess one. Just like work back home…”

“Where would you find one of these things?” The buck was way more conversational than he was the night before!

“Coal plant, hydroelectric dam, solar array; anywhere that produces a large amount of power. I found four potential places, but they’re all too far for me to drag the part back. My best idea is to hotwire a busted-up sky carriage to move it.”

His voice was deep, almost chillingly so. “I know about a facility… five-hour walk from here. A Stable. It’ll have what you need. I can show you away, and help keep you breathing long enough to find it. For a favour.

My wings fluttered happily as ate a mouthful of my warm, brothy noodles. “A Stable sounds perfect! What is it you want to exchange to help…?” I wasn’t used to that sort of interaction, but barter was a large part of Equestrian culture. It was something I'd have to deal with.

The stallion sighed sadly and looked down at the table. “I got separated from my group. More importantly, I got separated from a girl. I’m worried that something happened to her. You help me get back to her, I help you get your fancy boat flying. I’m already a day behind ‘em, but being able to fly will close the gap. What d’ya say?”

My wings flapped and flailed as I grinned. I could actually fix it! “Yeah, definitely! “B-but she’s a ship, not a boat. Big difference! Anyway, um, thank you so much for your help, Mister… Oh gosh, I don’t know your name! I ugh, what is your name?”

My strange antics made the buck roll his eyes. “Count Specter. Just call me Specter.” He had a title? That certainly raised an eyebrow. “Think nothing of it,” he grumbled. “No one cares if you’re a noble in the wasteland. All they care about is what they can take from you, and what you can take from them.”

“That is... a bleak outlook on your home. Let’s get going...”

-🖂︎🖂︎🖂︎-

Day 1

I can’t believe we made it… When I signed up to get into a stable, I never actually thought… I’m just glad we’re here. Vapour Trail… She was working at the water plant when… She didn’t make it. But I got Clover here. I saved our daughter. Stable-Tec says that we’ll be down here for at least 10 years. It’ll be hard, but we’re alive. Together. A new life, underground. A fresh start.

🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦

The lights and wires running through the narrow cave gave off a dreamlike buzz. The bunker was still powered! After 200 years! I saw plenty of Stable-tec equipment back home from test sights, but an entire bunker still running!? AMAZING!

The walkway wasn’t built to any standard though, groaning and snapping under hoof. The construction ponies that built the stable laid down planks of wood and metal plates, rather than walking along the hard stone floor of the tunnel. It was definitely easier on my hooves and claws, after the long uneven trot to the hidden cave. Made me consider making a nice set of boots and some gloves.

Of course, the walk was the easy part. A four-foot-thick steel door in the shape of a gear now blocked my path, proudly wearing the number 24 in faded yellow paint. We didn’t have the time or tools to drill into the door and force it open, and I certainly didn’t have a balefire egg laying around to try and breach it. Even if we did it could trigger the internal security, which I read have turrets and robots in spades. Thanks for that, S-T Vice President Scootaloo. You fell a few rungs on my favourite-historical-pony-ladder! And I always like Apple Bloom better, anyway! (Don’t worry, she climbed back up. I’m not that petty.)

Specter opted to stay near the entrance while I got us in. I couldn’t tell if he assumed I wouldn’t be able to get us inside, or if he was just masking his emotions. I guessed the latter, if only for my own ego's sake. But… I’m unmatched when it comes to machines, but terminals were never my forte.

I pulled a cable out of my slender, deep purple-plated PipBuck and jacked it in. I started to worry that the port was fried but after about a minute it finally connected. Strangely enough, my device had given the door controls a system update. Apparently, Stable-Tec was working on a new update for their systems before the bombs fell.

My PipBuck allowed me to access the terminal's functions, but not to bypass the security. It didn’t seem like I was going to be able to get very far without trying to crack it. Ugh, programming is the worst! How could anygriff sit and stare at endless lines of code without losing their sanity?

I wanted to give up, but I didn’t have a choice. Even if I hadn’t promised Specter, without the equipment beyond that door, it could take three weeks to fix my ship. Three more weeks of suffering for everyone back home.

UGH

Stupid Applebloom invented such an advanced, secure terminal like the genius she was! As I was scanning the code for anything I could exploit, I noticed something unusual. A familiar string of numbers and letters… I went through my Pipbucks files and found a similar string. Hiding in the junk files of my device was a command spell. SC4-1:3.

It wasn’t wise to run a spell program without knowing what it was, but… Worst it could do was lock me out of the stable, and I already was. With a hesitant tap of my talon, I activated the command spell.

My Eyes Forward Sparkle lit up my vision with data. Boot-up notifications, diagnostics for the door and my Pip, and right in the center, an unusual text alert.

Turncoat active

Stable-Tec override: “CMC:BadApple-3”: Active.

Door control terminal access granted.

Security protocol: Disabled.

Remove access override: Enabled.

Warning: remote connection offline. Please contact engineering.

Have a pleasant day

I-It hacked the door!? A random command spell in my PipBuck somehow bypassed one of the most secure facilities ever designed. How? Why!? I’d never been in a Stable before, or even to the Stable-tec R&D facility back home!

The text on my EFS faded, but the questions remained. Reasonably I knew I may never find the answers I wanted. The world was massive, and much of it died over 200 years ago. Despite the odds, the question still festered in the back of my mind. The endless implications it carried.

Aella! Have to stay on task! Get into the Stable, get some parts for the Skystar, and then get home! As fun as it would be to try and solve all the mysteries of the wasteland, I had a job to do. I pulled the door release lever.

A deafening alarm blared through the room beyond. My hands over my ears did little to keep the sound out. It thumped in my chest and shook through my hooves. The hydraulics came to life with the screeching of metal. The disorienting wall of sound brought back the nausea and throbbing headache of the night before, forcing me to grit my beak and wrap my wings around myself as I waited for the auditory attack to end.

Finally, the sirens quieted, and the machinery stilled. A wall of stale dry air brushed past as I untangled myself from my wings and stared into the underground world beyond. It seemed impossible to be able to just canter into the secure shelter. Looking inside, the space felt... Confining. Suffocatingly so. I never had issues being in a small space before, but something about the air and energy of the stable put me on edge. All of my hairs stood on end, and my feathers rustled anxiously. I was overcome with the urge to turn and run, but I resisted. The stable felt like a tomb, a graveyard, but worse. Restless and unsettled. Still, I pushed myself forward.

Shadows danced on the rusted walls as age-old lights struggled to illuminate the room. Every surface was uncomfortably free of dust and debris. It was like I walked into a model or dollhouse, rather than a place where ponies lived. The light spell of my PipBuck helped keep back the darkness, barely. I took a look at the wrist terminal with a frown as I walked into the room, muttering. “Really should try and increase the power for this spell… It doesn’t make much of a dent in the dark.”

Specter would have needed to be deaf to miss the rack I made. He crept into the tunnel behind me when the alarms sounded, and silently followed me in. His eyes were glazed over as he smiled at thin air, lost in his own mental train yard. Even distracted, his eyes scanned our surroundings thoroughly, watching for threats of valuables. The wastelander never seemed to let his guard down, whether in the safety of my airship or in the desolate wasteland.

There weren’t any ticks on my EFS compass, thankfully. I wanted to get what we needed without having to fight any monsters or beasts, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath. Not after the stories Specter told me on the way. A lot of it sounded like wasteland legends spun by some bored scaver, but all stories have some truth to them. While the idea of some Stable-Tec conspiracy seemed unlikely, there had to be a reason so many ponies who ventured into the bunkers never returned.

It was a good thing the command spell I activated booted up my EFS, because I probably wouldn’t have remembered it otherwise. Tracking threats wasn’t all it was good for either! It was connected to almost every spell in my PipBuck! It kept track of ammo count, and vitals, and even helped run the repair assistance spell. Some advanced models of Pipbuck had mini maps or AI assistance, but mine wasn’t nearly that fancy.

Specter strode past me confidently, pushing me to quicken my pace to not be left behind. His confidence was a good counter to my hesitation. If we moved as slowly as my nervous flank wanted to, we could have spent days down there.

The metal tomb was in no way homey. The cool, humid air gave me chills. Our claw and hoofsteps were inaudible against the deafening machinery pounding from somewhere below. The pumps and generators pounded, groaned, and clicked their complaints of not being serviced in decades. It was like nails on a chalkboard to my mechanically inclined ears.

The entryway was simply designed. A small room, with a ramp slanting down to the Stable door so you don't hit your head on the machinery. You know I’m a graceful, tall, and attentive creature! Which is why I promptly smacked my head against the hydraulic arm. I know, way to go, Aella.

I rubbed my head's newest bump as I followed Specter up the ramp. There was another control panel set beside the ramp, with wires running up the wall and into the hydraulic. The interface had taken a beating, with over a dozen small dents. There were over three times the amount of bullet casings scattered across the floor grating. The wall and floor were decorated with blood, but there weren’t any bodies. Why move the bodies, but not clean up the blood?

The doors in the stable were nearly the same as the hydraulic ones used in Skya, back home. Heavy steel slabs that slid up and down on hydraulics, with a simple on-off panel placed off to the side. They had keypads for locking and unlocking doors, but as far as I could tell they’d rarely been used. It made sense with just a few hundred ponies locked in a hole together. Not likely for someone to try and take your things. Not to mention the cameras. They had dome-shaped cameras placed every ten meters in every hallway. I knew there was no one alive to see the feed, but the fact they were watching still made my skin crawl.

With the push of a button, the door hissed out of our way. It slowed two-thirds of the way up as the mechanisms ticked and clinked terribly. Specter raised an eyebrow at me before he crouched under the stuck door. I sighed and followed along, mourning the sorry state of such wonderful technology. My best guess was nothing had been cleaned or repaired properly in at least 120 years.

“We need to be careful down here, understand? Stables aren’t the safest places to scavenge. Most have their own… unique problems to deal with. Without a full team, it just isn’t safe to loiter. In and out, no sightseeing, no exploring.”

I rolled my eyes and groaned. It was an annoyingly familiar, and predictable conversation. Just like on the repo team. I understood how important safety was, even if sometimes I fucked everything up.

“I understand…” I took a look at my PipBuck, using the mapping feature to its fullest extent. “We need to get to the engineering wing, everything we need will be there. I’m just not sure where we need to go… The mapping only goes level by level.”

Specter trotted down the stairs and waved me after him. “I’ve been to a couple of Stables in my time, filly. I lead, you salvage the parts we need. In and out,” he affirmed. “Just like the old days.” Great, hardly a week away from home and I'm being called a filly again. Compared to him, everyone was probably a filly.

The stairs lead down into an atrium, a massive room about three stories high. There was a large round window at the far end, looking into some kind of office. A banner hung above it, loudly proclaiming “Hard Work is Happy Work!” There were a lot of doors coming off the atrium. A bar and pool hall, a theatre room, a couple of storerooms, and stairwells. Most interestingly though, the clinic. The room had a window looking in, with a poster beside the door. “Have you taken your medication today?” in big letters, with a photo of a yellow pegasus mare smiling anxiously.

“That’s… weird,” I mutter as I walk in to take a look. Specter didn’t mind taking a detour for the sake of restocking the medical supplies we’d used, and then some.

The clinic was small, with just a few beds and an auto-doc in the corner. The robot was boxy, with a bunch of appendages coming out of it. In theory, it would have been able to do various operations and treatments, though the spell matrix was too degraded to be of any use. Pity, those things can come in handy. Another poster hung above one bed, featuring a young filly with wide excited eyes and the caption “No rest for the working! The Overmare is watching!”

…Super creepy.

Connected to the infirmary was a pharmacy, stocked with countless chemicals and drugs that I couldn’t even pronounce. Boxes of “Isosterophenhol”, bags of anti-radiant fluid, nothing I had the capacity to understand. None of the chemicals seemed like they’d be useful, and most of them were long expired.

Specter went straight for the massive collection of meds, filling his saddlebags with random chemicals and medication without hesitation. I had no idea what the buck would need any of the random supplies for. Maybe to barter with.

I rushed to the first fridge I found and found them sitting comfortably inside. Healing potions! Magical healing goodness! They tasted more bitter than usual from sitting for centuries, but their magic worked well enough! My Pipbuck informed me that my head was no longer crippled, and I could finally put a bit of weight on my hind leg. I found four other healing potions in a cupboard which I slipped into my saddlebag for later, along with some magical healing bandages and antibiotics.

I offered Specter one of the potions, but he declined. He was doing far better than before, after all. He was walking normally, and his breathing improved. Despite being hurt worse than me, and drinking the same amount of healing potions he was almost at peak condition. Probably some weird earth pony thing. Ponies did have a wide variety of magic they could possess. Speaking with animals, Heartmending, precognition, even just using the magic created from friendship or love. Or it could be a mutation from all the balefire radiation. Does that still count as being part of their magic?

The clinic's terminal didn’t have anything interesting. Mostly incident reports of ponies getting hurt on the job. There was an unusual amount of negligent-related injury, but other than that it seemed pretty normal. They had 12 doctors and pharmacists on staff, which seemed like a lot for a stable of 500 ponies. Back home, we had maybe four doctors in my village, with a few nurses and alchemists.

With saddlebags weighed down with meds, we headed deeper into the Stable. The lower levels smelled acrid and stale. Some areas bore the all too familiar scent of decay. The poor air made me cough and gag. My best guess was that the air talisman had become corrupted, simply left to turn out putrid gasses. If not for the flight goggles over my eyes they would have watered like a tap. I kicked myself for not bringing a respirator or rebreather. Second time I needed it today!

The Stable was unusually empty. Not just of critters, but of residence. Bloodstains, bullet casings, dents and holes in various walls and doors. Countless signs of struggle and injury, but not a single body or skeleton. Just like in the front room.

I was so distracted trying to figure it out I didn’t see Specter stop and ran right into him. We came to a fork in the road, and the buck was furrowing his brow as he tried to decide what direction to go. According to the signs on the wall, the left hall lead to Living quarters A-E, while the right was F-T

“Is everything ok?” I asked softly as if someone might overhear me.

He shook his head a bit. “The layout of this Stable is different from... I’d heard this one had an extended pharmacy, but I didn’t think anything else would be changed. Normally there are only two residential areas, with a stairwell here. I don’t think we can cut through to the lower levels this way.”

The residential areas were far from homey. They were dull, dark, and lacked creativity. Ironic, considering how important creativity is to ponies. Not a single painted wall or work of art in sight. It was just… grey. Grey walls, grey doors, grey tables. Just… Grey. It sapped what little warmth there was, leaving the pony dwellings hollow and depressed.

Living in a Stable was the most difficult thing anyone here had ever done. In a situation where the designers knew morale would already be low, I couldn’t wrap my head around why they wouldn’t try to make things brighter. Maybe this is one of those issues with old-world capitalism. To afford to make sure people live, you can’t afford to give them things that make them want to.

The hallway needed a mural.

My neck snapped to the left as a yellow tick appeared on my EFC compass. SOMETHING ALIVE! Something alive that didn’t wanna eat us, just a couple of rooms away! Assuming it wasn’t above or below us… Seriously, designing a threat detection system for fliers that couldn’t tell depth? Not helpful.

I did my best to mentally prepare for a lot of stuff going into that tomb, but a yellow dot was not one of them! Specter made me sure we’d run into some kind of mutated beast, or automated security gone mad. Neither of us considered that we’d find something friendly. I had to know what it was!

Specter kicked his firing bit into place and took a defensive stance. I was going to tell him to relax, but he didn’t give me the chance. “EFS can be wrong. It’s not always best at telling when something is or isn’t hostile. Don’t get burned for putting your life in the hands of some old-world machine.”

Oh, right, he also had a PipBuck. He could see it on EFS, too. Assuming it worked on that mess of a device he wore. I knew at the very least the medical alert system was completely fried, having tried to use it when I treated his wounds.

He had a point My pip only knew the current disposition of whatever was there. We had no idea how it could react if it saw us. So I followed his lead, pulling my pistol from the holster sewn onto my jacket and moving to the nearest door. The little recharging weapon hummed silently to life, pulsing gently like a magical heartbeat.

The room was empty for a living space. No furnishings, no decorations, no personal effects. Only a couch, and two desks covered in loose paper and quills. (Seriously? Who still used quills? How far back was Equestria?) Tucked against the back wall was a little kitchenette. The space lacked any kind of bedroom or even beds! Were they expected to sleep on the couch to save space? Or standing up?

Lumbering in the back corner next to one desk was…

what the hell-ium is that!?

It was grotesque. Like a pony, but wrong. Balding, with strips of flesh rotting and falling away. Gashes ran across its flanks and legs, leaking a strange black sludge. It rocked back and forth on unsteady legs, completely unaware of our presence.

No… Not it. He.

His milk eyes slowly drifted left to right, seeming to read one of the mess of illegible pages on its desk. There was no spark of life in his gaze. Just an all-consuming emptiness. Any feelings or thoughts he had fell away long ago, leaving behind an empty husk that yearned for what it lost. I cringed and stumbled back as I realized… The creature had no soul.

Rags of fabric clung to his sickly skin, with some pockets and pouches are still intact. The remnants of utility barding. He was a maintenance technician. Or he was when he was still... him. Until some unnatural force twisted his body and banish his soul. What could so utterly destroy something like-

Crack

The mutant buck's head exploded, painting the wall in black and grey gore. The empty husk slumped to the floor in a puddle of thick black ichor. I flinched away from the gunfire. My heart pounded against my jacket.

His head just exploded. His head EXPLODED! He was just… and then he was dead. Like a light. Just… gone.

“Le’s go.” Specter said around his firing bit, smoke trailing from his barrel as the scent of gunpowder hit. His voice was completely neutral. He sounded normal. How could he…

I turned towards him with an angry hiss. Razor-sharp talons scraped against the floor grates. “Why did you kill him!? He was just changing light bulbs, he wasn’t a threat!” Anger overshadowed my normally quiet demeanor. My wings unfurled as I stepped toward the stallion. I wasn’t big for a hippogriff, but I was larger than the buck. Thanks to my wingspan, even moreso.

The buck was completely unphased by my display. Casually, he let go of the firing bit and retracted it with a flick of his leg. “It was a ghoul. A strange ghoul, but one nonetheless. It clearly wasn’t in its right mind, and I don’t need that thing tearing you apart from behind. You dying would be inconvenient. Now come on, nothing you can do for it now.”

I followed the buck deeper into the stable from a distance. That was… just so much to deal with. And I had so little time to deal with it! I knew that the world was broken, and people did what they had to. But blowing off someone's head out of nowhere? Without even trying to talk? The thing was just doing maintenance! Just like I did! Not having a soul didn’t make him dangerous! He was probably just doing what felt natural to try and feel alive again.

Post outburst I had been able to convince Specter to search the residential areas with me. As much as he wanted to make quick work of our little adventure, I wanted to do some more exploring. I tempted him with the idea that we could find some maps of the stable in one of the rooms, or some security keycards we could use. No buck can argue with the unstoppable logic of Aella Breeze!

I actually just needed some time to calm down and process.

Unfortunately for us, the ‘ghoul’ as he called it wasn’t enough to maintain even the lighting of the massive stable. Most areas had flickering, dying bulbs, with a few hallways and rooms being completely back. Without my PipBucks light spell and my keen avian eyes, I would have tripped and fumbled over everything.

Most of the ‘homes,’ if you could call them that, were clones of the first. Empty rooms with basic necessities, and very few frills. There was the odd propaganda poster sporting slogans like “hard work is happy work,” and “work together, forever,” and even, “Obey the Overmare!” Maybe the rumours Specter mentioned about Stable-Tec being a bit sideways held some water…

It was all much of the same until we reached room A. The second to last room we checked was completely different than the others. It had entertainment. A screen, books, a terminal, and even showing Stable system information! Ok, so maybe that isn’t as entertaining to most creatures as it is to be, but it had a lot of useful data. According to the terminal, most of the systems had been down for over 150,00 hours. Oh, and I was right! Ahah! The air talisman on level three was functional, but corrupted! N-not that I needed to be right, or anything. Obviously.

It was also the first room to have a bedroom. Not just a bed, but an entire room, making it double the size of the other dwellings. A queen-sized bed in the middle of a beautifully furnished room, with colourful posters and banners to accent the space. The walls were even painted at some point, although most of it peeled away years ago.

The last room down that end of the hallway, room B was locked, with the control pad unpowered. Of course will my skill, and familiarity with similar designs, it was a slice of cake! It was super easy to wire the door back into the stable’s power grid and bypass the digital interface to force it open. Hahah, easy breezy! The system struggled to life at first, but after a moment, the door was ushered out of our path.

Partway, at least. The door groaned in protest partway up and got stuck. Over 100 years of being sealed shut did no favours. I sighed and did my best to crawl my way under the door. I may have been somewhat large compared to most ponies, but I was also very flexible. Specter stayed outside to have another smoke.

Room B mirrored room A, with the exception of a skeleton laying over the terminal. The cause of death was clear and painfully familiar. I couldn’t keep my eyes from watering as I trotted over the long-dead unicorn and put her mostly loaded revolver in my saddlebag.

“I’m sorry that you… I jus… I’m so sorry…” I whispered to her quietly. I pulled the sheets off the bed and wrapped the poor creature in them. Then I totally didn’t spend a few minutes by the makeshift body bag weeping. I’m supposed to be the hero, the brave adventurer, the chosen one! Daring doo and the Shrouded Stallion never cried over long-dead creatures they never even met. Or maybe they did, and simply decided not to publish that part. I connected my PipBuck to the dead ponies terminal, copying a full map of the stable as I cleaned my face. The last thing I wanted was for Specter to know I was crying. That was a line of questioning I didn’t have the energy for.

Map in talon, I crawled back into the hall. Keeping busy would help keep my mind from wandering. The unfortunate mare was typing in the terminal before she took her life. All of the other entries were password-protected, but one had been left open. Her last final words.

-🖂︎🖂︎🖂︎-

Entry 136

The stable has failed. the violence has spread further than we could control. there's a faction calling for my head, now. They took over The clinic first. Threatened to destroy the pharmacy if I didn’t open the main door. I gave them the passcodes. That was… four days ago. Even with the door codes, some Remain in the stable. they scratch and beat on MY door, calling for MY head. I know I can’t stop them from getting in here. All disabling the door Did was buy me some TIME. I can’t let them get to me ALIve. If anyPONy from Stable-tec is reading this… Your Celestia damned experiment kiLLed us. I hope you had too-to watch your family burn.

Day 51

This stable is unique from what I understand. The doctors have this drug. In order to make sure the stable systems last the full 20 years, we need to work to keep things running as long as possible. The drugs and potions they give us, it’s amazing. I haven't slept in 7 weeks, and I feel wide awake! Clover and the other kids are doing better than any of us parents expected. With the extra hours we used to spend sleeping, we’ve learned more than I ever thought we could about arcane technology.

🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦

Blam blam blam!

Ghouls. Angry, hungry, very fast-moving ghouls! Seeing Specter fire shell after shell into the feral, unrelenting creatures helped me understand his fear of them. Even when they were missing limbs or chunks of their bodies, they fumbled over their dead to continue their charge through our storm of lead death and searing magic. The scent of burned powder and rotten flesh stung my eyes and made my stomach lurch. There was no sense of self-preservation or tactical awareness. Only a need to feed and an instinct to kill.

I dove back into the stairwell we came down from for cover. A mix of adrenaline and the refusal to inconvenience Specter with my death kept me fighting, even when every instinct screamed for me to flee. My pistol shook in my grip as I watched the ammo count in my vision count up at a turtles pace.

The roaring outside grew louder. Closer. Before my gun was even half charged a trio of putrid beasts charged through the door after me. Froth fell from their maws as they growled and gnawed at the air between us.

A flurry of blue beans met them. The leader took a hit to the chest and foreleg. Its entire body shimmered as it was rendered to glittering ash. The second one took a shot in the eye, brain boiled as it fell lifelessly to the floor. The last one was strange. Smart. It took cover behind the ghoul I dropped, making me waste several precious shots as I failed to target it.

Then it pounced. Tried to close the distance before I could land a killing blow. But before it could it stopped. Everything stopped. The miracle of SATS stopped time itself, leaving me staring down the rotten, sickly grey and brown maw of the ghoul just feet from my face. The sight would have made me gag if my body could move.

With my remaining shots queued up, time resumed. Blue streaks burned through the creature's head and chest. Its final scream caught in its throat as the light on my EFS marker blinked out.

I’m a smart mare. You know it. I know it. But we all have our moments. And this was mine. By forgetting basic physics. If something is flying toward you, it doesn’t stop just because you killed it.

Bright side, it wasn’t trying to eat me! Dark side, it slammed into me full force! I let out a pained chirp as the air was forced out of my lungs. My ears rang as my head hit the wall hardest of all.

I blacked out for a moment. I heard myself whimpering as I came to atop the ghoul that death tackled me. The fresh head wound had me feeling dizzy and nauseous. I blinked away tears as I pushed myself to my hooves, just for a wave of vertigo to force me against the wall behind me. My body heaved to make it clear it was done with the ordeal. Unfortunately, I wasn't. The gunfire in the hall made that very clear.

With unsteady claws, I pushed a dose of med-X into my veins. I was quickly learning that in a life-or-death situation, you can’t afford to have reservations about something as simple as the fear of addiction. The pony-sized dose wasn’t as effective for my larger size, but it was enough to get me moving

With the pain in my head fading as the chems did their work, I grabbed my trusty sidearm from where it fell and galloped back into the action.

Specter was a couple of meters from the door, rifle and shotgun roaring. Piles of dead undead bodies covered the floor of the maintenance tunnel. He wore an unsettling grin as he shot one after another silently urging the last few horrors to take their best shot. He wouldn’t be disappointed.

Click

Oh, feathers.

Click

The ghouls didn’t wait for the buck to reload. They swarmed. Two forced him to the floor. A third fell by his hooves, intent on eating him alive. The buck screamed as the creatures descended on him.

No time to panic. No time to think. I levelled my pistol at the beasts and let SATS do the work. One crashed dead to the floor as two cobalt rays speared through its chest. Another screamed as its throat blistered and bubbled from the magical burns. Still alive, and very upset, it turned its attention toward me. The attack left my weapon spent. Specter would have to fight off the last one himself, while I dealt with my own problems.

The wounded ghoul forgot about Specter as it snarled and barreled toward me. I steeled my resolve and raised my claw with grim determination. Confusion flashed in the ghoul's eyes as I struck out with razor-sharp talons. Thick black ichor spattered me from the deep gashes in its face. Then in a single motion, I drove a talon deep into its eye socket. Right into the brain.

Specter managed his fight fine. Better than fine, really. He managed to rise to his hooves and deliver a powerful apple-bucking kick to its torso. The expected result was shattered ribs and a punctured lung. Imagine my shock when the creature soared across the circular steel tunnel, denting the wall it splattered against!

It was amazing… and terrifying. Was that earth pony strength? Were they all superhero-level kickers with endless stamina? Or was he some kind of outlier? Of course, at the time I was too distracted to think on it much.

My head was swimming. The lights and fans grew brighter. Louder. The rotten gore on my hands flooded every nerve with a wrinkly discomfort. My heart pounded. My body ached and burned. An invisible force crushed my chest. Forced the air from my lungs. Alerts and warnings that were supposed to help me just overwhelmed me further.

Pushing my body so far past its limit was easy. Will and determination often kept me working for days with little sleep, and the pain in my body was easily bearable with the help of drugs. My mind wasn’t so easily tricked. It was finished, and it knew it. Too much input. Too many new things. Too many close calls.

Specter trotted over, his lips moving. He sat a bloody hoof on my shoulder. He was speaking again. Trying to tell me something. I didn’t care. It didn’t process. I just pulled away from his touch. My keen mind was failing me. Even knowing that the threat was over, the fear and anxiety continued to slither in my guts. They wouldn’t release. Tried to drown me.

-🖂︎🖂︎🖂︎-

Day 91

Raspberry Tart killed her filly today. In front of the entire class. Little filly asked a question Berry didn’t know the answer to, and she just lost it. Most of the students were terrified, naturally. Several, though, didn’t even seem to process it. They just sat there, completing their assignments. The doctors say it was a trauma response, and that it’s nothing unordinary. I don’t know about that… Clover has been less herself lately. She doesn’t laugh or play like she used to. She just works, and studies. She’ll respond when I speak with her, but it’s almost like she isn’t there at all. I hope it’s just the stress of everything we’ve been through.

🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦

Specter gave me some much-needed space as I recovered. The patience surprised me a bit. Apparently, he understood the stress of someone's first wasteland adventure. Once he confirmed I wasn’t bleeding to death, he trotted off to loot.

Four near-death experiences in a single week. Two of them in my own country! That had to be some kind of record. But none of it held a candle to the horrors of Stable 24. The creatures back home were just animals and spirits, surviving. Equestria had monsters. Actual, death and suffering-oriented monsters. Soulless zombies held together by a spark of necromantic energy. I knew balefire was powerful stuff, but seeing it firsthand was so much worse. More terrifying, Specter was so casual about them. There was a word for them! Ghouls are just… a normal wasteland thing! What other messed up stuff would I have to live through to try and save my nation?

Time had little meaning in my overwhelmed and exhausted state. At no point did I feel fine, but eventually I knew I had to get moving, lest I sit and rest forever. Once I had the power regulator, we could go home. I’d be safe, in my repaired skysailing home, far away from the Accord damned tomb I was suffering in.

The reactor control room I needed! The regulator was a metal box about half my size, with thick wires coming out of either end. It was relatively light, so I could carry it on my back without too much trouble. Still, I’d find an old cart on the surface to throw and the rest of the salvage in to make things easier. Scrap metal, spark batteries, electronics, wires, even the odd gun or knife! It was a treasure trove of mechanical junk! More than I could ever hope to cart back.

Annoyingly, the one room I wanted to search for most was the one I couldn’t. The spark reactors were some of the most advanced technology Equestria developed during the war, and I would have killed for a closer look! Unfortunately, just looking at the reactor room door made my Geiger counter scream in my ears.

I found Specter a few rooms from down, in water processing. He was tearing panels off of one of the complex-looking systems, stripping it for parts. Parts like the two dazzling-looking sapphire and gold charms hung around his neck. The stones radiated a powerful, cooling aura. Like a river or waterfall. I could hardly believe my eyes as I rushed over, taking one of the enchanted objects in my claws to study it.

"A water talisman... I've never actually seen one. This is amazing! You could help so many people with these on the surface!! Entire towns with clean drinking water! Way more people than they helped down here, keeping everyone alive for some twisted… thing.”

He pushed me off of his new accessories with a grunt. Even being gentle, the buck's strength was “It is an amazing find. They’re some of the most valuable salvage you can get in the wasteland. Selling one of these will set me up for life.”

“Sell... them? Sell? Like, for currency? But people need water to live! You can’t just charge people for something they’d die without!” I sat back on my haunches with my ears pinned back. My emotions slowly crept back to me as I struggled to fit my wrench around the selfish things he was saying.

He sighed and sat his hoof on my shoulder, an act that was in no way comforting. “This is how things are out here. You take what you can when you can, and you keep yourself alive. Maybe whoever buys it will save a lot of lives. Maybe they’ll be Raiders. Either way, I’ll be sitting pretty. That’s what matters.”

I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The more I learned about the Equestrian Wasteland, (and the kinds of ponies in it) the more I hated it. Everyone in it for themselves… it’s no wonder there was so much suffering. I sighed and trotted back towards the stairwell “Whatever. There’s not much left here. Let's just go.”

On the way out, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before. Near the Stable door, curled up in the corner, were two skeletons. The larger one had its hooves wrapped around the smaller one. Beneath the bones laid a dusty PipBuck, screen still flickering. I took it in my claws with a sad smile. “I’ll take care of this for you… I’m sorry you didn’t make it.”

-🖂︎🖂︎🖂︎-

Day 104 128

I swear it was only day 104… I must have gotten caught up in my work. It gets hard to keep track when you never sleep. We’ve had five people start attacking people now. They’re all being held in medical. They’re saying it’s the stress and trauma of the end of the world. While I hope they’re right, I’m worried it’s these drugs they’re giving us. Not sleeping for this long isn’t natural. Even with magic to help us, I think it’s causing problems. A lot more of us now are becoming dazed. Like drones, simply following orders and doing our tasks. Clover barely notices when I’m here some days. I think we need to leave. Whatever is happening out there can’t be as bad as what they’re doing to us here. Some of the workers have a plan to leave. We’re going to go with them.

🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦

An entire stable to research replacing sleeping with magic… to what end? I learned a lot about Stabe-Tec and its founders growing up, the innovations they created, and how they changed the world. I never dreamed they could experiment on unwilling ponies like that. I hadn’t believed anyone could. One of the founders even lived in Mt. Aris during the war!

Babs Seed was in charge of Stable development outside of Equestria. She oversaw the construction of Stables all over, from Griffonstone to Yakyakistan. She’d never be ok with the occupants being used as guinea pigs! We learned about her in school, she was a good pony! A saint, even! Did they keep it from her?

Footnote:
Level 3 reached!

Perk added: Egghead! Your intelligence is good for more than just doing math for fun! Gain 2 additional skill points per level.

Author's Note

Edits, quality of life changes, and PipBuck optimization updated 16/07/23!

Thanks for reading, commenting, liking, and probably being a huge nerd like me!!!